


Shutter

by jeien



Category: Kamen Rider Blade
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Post-Series, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 07:52:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7500144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeien/pseuds/jeien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His editor must have been freaking out at this hour since the composite was due for review in the morning. But he had spotted Kenzaki earlier that day and decided that their usual beach meeting could come a little sooner. And maybe without the beach involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shutter

**Author's Note:**

> This was written at 12am in under an hour and with the intention of WRECKING YOUR EMOTIONS so please enjoy.
> 
> [This work can now be read in Chinese!](http://smalldiver.lofter.com/post/1e2cb58c_c8a5773) Thanks to [FantasyNine](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasyNine/pseuds/FantasyNine) for translating!

Hajime runs a hand through his hair—short and bristly like the vibrant emerald grasses on the screen or stiff stalks of wheat resisting the sway of the wind in his memory card. His editor must have been freaking out at this hour since the composite was due for review in the morning. But he had spotted Kenzaki earlier that day and decided that their usual beach meeting could come a little sooner. And maybe without the beach involved.

Kenzaki actually agreed. So for the first time in about a century or two, they wandered over concrete instead of sand.

The occasion had never been a lavish affair. It had never even been eventful—usually just the two of them lying in the sand or wading in waters as crystalline as their old dreams had once been. Their habits remained the same as the venue changed from the ocean to the city. They window-shopped. They ate at cheap restaurants and stopped by not-too-trendy cafes. They didn’t dare to hold hands. They took no pictures, despite the camera hanging around Hajime’s neck like the shackle that bound him to the human world in Kenzaki’s place.

When night fell and their hours together began to dwindle to their final grains, Kenzaki compromised enough of his rationale to rent a one-bed hotel room—if only to feign a normalcy, a what-if, that seemed too far within the realms of impossibility.

They slipped into bed, making sure to put the necessary space between them that could make or break the peace they sacrificed so much to retain. They didn’t talk about progress. About the current Battle Fight or their Undead instincts tempting them to land the first blow. Instead, they talked about things they’d seen, people they’d met, people long gone. They talked about how Hajime cut his hair and how Kenzaki grew his out. How Hajime looked like he lost weight since the last time they saw each other. How Kenzaki’s a little tanner from the days riding his bike under the sun and that he’s lucky he’s not human anymore or else he might have gotten heat stroke. They kept up the small banter, the little remnants of humanity their clung onto, until Kenzaki decided he was going to sleep.

Hajime is still awake, looking through his photos from previous days. He really should have set an alarm or a reminder of some sort; his phone can finally handle that sort of thing.

He steals a glance at Kenzaki: stomach-down, arms under the pillow, and cheek squished childishly as he slept. Hajime points the lens at Kenzaki. His hand trembles and he lowers the camera once more.  

The next morning, Hajime makes sure to be the first one to wake up. He looks to the side and sees Kenzaki as if he had been human again. Hajime forces the guilt down his throat and slips out of bed.

He hates leaving Kenzaki—hates leaving the illusion their painstakingly built for themselves the day before, hates leaving the stability of their miniature garden to return to another year of fruitless results, hates having to go back to what-is rather than stay in what-could-be. But he hates seeing Kenzaki go even more.

Hajime looks back towards the bed as he slings his shackle around his neck. After a moment of hesitation, he wraps his hands around the weight of his camera—heavier now with the sin he was about to commit—and focuses the lens at Kenzaki.

The shutter goes off.

He leaves first.


End file.
